


buy my way to talk to god

by spiraldistortion (bisexualthorin)



Series: Jonah Madness [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Banter, Ficlet, Flirting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23917360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexualthorin/pseuds/spiraldistortion
Summary: Jonah leans back in his chair, crosses one leg over his knee. “Can it truly be called power if you have no restraint? No control over your use of it?” He asks. “Giving in to your baser desires—some would call that a vice.”“I don’t think I’ll take a lecture about ‘giving in to baser desires’ from the likes of you, sweetheart,” Simon says with a smirk. “I know plenty about what you’ll give in to… and about what you’ll take for that matter.”
Relationships: Simon Fairchild/Jonah Magnus
Series: Jonah Madness [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1723834
Comments: 1
Kudos: 39
Collections: Associated Articles Regarding One Jonah Magnus





	buy my way to talk to god

**Author's Note:**

  * For [screechfox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/screechfox/gifts).



> This is the fourth of a series of requests Jay (@gummybyrd on twitter) and I took as a part of a Jonah-centric art/fic collab we ran live on discord. We gave ourselves 5 minutes to plan and 40 minutes to work, and these are the results!
> 
> The prompt for this was "jonah + simon fairchild | battle of the nihilists"
> 
> The title is from Don't Stop by InnerPartySystem
> 
> As always, huge thanks and love to everyone in the eye horror server!

“The Magnus Institute. Still can’t believe you actually named it that.”

“I don’t see what the problem is, Simon,” Jonah says mildly. “It is a research institution, and I am its head.”

“And do any of your little librarians know what their boss did to get where he is? The story of the institute’s _illustrious_ start?" Simon asks, voice salacious, smile sharp.

“I, of course, make my thanks for our generous donors and patrons known to the public—”

“That’s a no, then,” Simon says, leaning an elbow onto the table. “And what a shame—they’re missing out on quite the tale.”

Jonah presses his mouth into a thin line, refusing to entertain Simon’s foolishness.

“Speaking of shame, I heard about poor old Barny,” Simon says gleefully, swirling his drink in his hands. “Such a pity. And so young!”

Jonah shoots an unimpressed look across the table, and Simon continues on as if he hasn't seen it.

“It’s just too bad that something couldn’t have been done. If only you had _known_ , maybe you could have… traded Mordechai something in exchange for his life.” Simon smiles at him, a nasty, cheerful glint in his eye.

“I’m not responsible for the life of every foolish boy that crosses my path,” Jonah says with a sniff, looking down into his glass. “Besides, I learned a great deal from the situation.”

“Oh?” Simon leans forward in his seat. He always was a terrible gossip. Jonah rolls his eyes.

“Nothing that concerns you,” Jonah says, disdainfully. “Though I will say, it is quite interesting to know how little it takes to push Mordechai to rash action.”

“Please, don’t pretend you didn’t already know _that_ ,” Simon says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “And to think, I generously gave all that money to your little _institute_ , only for you to continue to come to obvious conclusions.” Simon sips his wine, looks thoughtful. “Besides, where’s the fun in having power if you don’t use it?”

Jonah leans back in his chair, crosses a leg over his knee. “Can it truly be called power if you have no restraint? No control over your use of it?” He asks. “Giving in to your baser desires—some would call that vice.”

“I don’t think I’ll take a lecture about ‘ _giving in to baser desires_ ’ from the likes of you, sweetheart,” Simon says with a smirk. “I know plenty about what you’ll give in to… and about what you’ll take, for that matter.”

Jonah tuts and looks over his glass in reproach. “Always so vulgar. It never ceases to amaze me how you maintain good standing in polite society.”

“Well, that’s simple: money. Greasing a few palms will get you a long way.” Simon shoots him a sidelong glance, eyes alight with mischief. “Failing that, one can always grease up—”

“ _Please!_ ”

Simon throws his head back and laughs.

“So prudish!” Simon says. He reaches forward to knock a finger under Jonah’s chin. “It’s rather cute.”

Jonah jerks his head back in annoyance, and uncrosses his leg.

“I’d appreciate it if you kept your hands to yourself,” Jonah says coldly.

“Ah, I see,” he says, settling back into his chair with a long, mocking sigh. “You only want me for my money.”

“That is categorically true,” Jonah says, deadpan. “There is no other reason for us to speak.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Simon’s foot brushes against his leg under the table, and Jonah feels a subtle burn in his throat, as if all the air were being slowly pulled from his body. Jonah clears his throat, swallows with some difficulty, and raises a finger to flag down a waiter.

Simon sits back in his chair, face split into a Cheshire grin. “I thought so.”


End file.
